Resolutions
by Clayairnys
Summary: It's New Year's Eve, and Jim Kirk has never exactly been the best at reflecting. (K/S Oneshot)


Snow was nothing compared to stars.

Jim Kirk fondly remembered the crystals of frozen water abundant in the winters of Iowa. Blankets of white to cover the farm and the injuries from it. The cold fluff soothing on fresh bruises. Sparkling facets of crystalline spicules to gaze at endlessly. Yeah, snow was great.

And when a young boy looked up to the sky he could almost imagine himself out in space among the stars, among the millions of atoms that had once made up one George Kirk. Back then it was the closest he ever thought he'd get, what with Winona dead-set against her sons even considering a job with the Federation that murdered her husband.

It wasn't until Jim was standing on the observation deck of his very own constitution class flagship, gazing out into the endless void around it, that he realized how much of a fool he'd been. That he ever thought snow could substitute the stars!

Nebulae of swirling multicolor gases stretched across lightyears of distance and birthed millions of suns. The glow of which could never be conceivably compared to the dull refraction of light through ice. Blooming galaxies and billowing clouds of hydrogen, fluorine, bromine, gaseous lithium—elements perhaps undiscovered! Pillars of star-bearing smoke thousands of kilometers high, life sustaining planets twelve times the size of Terra. The young captain did his best not to lament upon what his life would have been with false stars.

All of this beauty only heightened by the knowledge that the pane of glass that kept him a constant 0.9 meters away from it was also keeping him alive. That space was merciless and would devour him in an instant without a second thought. While this feeling of paltry existence was overwhelming to some, it only served to comfort Jim Kirk. Space didn't care about his reputation; space didn't care whether or not he'd bested his father at the end of the day.

* * *

So James Tiberius Kirk spent his first Terran New Year's Eve as captain with stars instead of snow. Despite the sentimentality in the flakes of frozen water, he wouldn't have had it any other way. Here he had a place, a family more so than any he'd had before, and he had spheres of burning gas lightyears away. Jim raised his chin in a silent toast to the stars. A thank-you, he supposed.

"Should old acquaintance be forgot,

and never brought to mind?"

"Captain?"

Jim immediately clamped his jaw shut to omit any further singing. Why he'd even started evaded him; the lyrics had just spilled out. He felt an infuriating blush rise in his cheeks at having the moment witnessed. He turned.

"Ah! Mr. Spock, is there anything I can help you with?"

The half-vulcan gazed at him curiously, dark eyes calculating and immeasurably deep. "No sir, I merely wished to inform you that Beta shift has ended without any notable incidents or peculiar readings, and to perhaps make the offer of a round of chess," there was a glint in Spock's eyes that Jim had come to learn was almost like a smile.

The human equivalent stretched across the captain's face at the thought. "Why, I think that would be wonderful," scratching the back of his neck he ducked his head and added: "Sorry you had to hear my horrible singing."

Spock tilted his head ever-so-slightly to the right. "I did not find it distasteful, though one would take care to note that I am by no means learned in the area of human vocalized music," like it mattered. Spock's voice had a constant melodic cadence to it; making everything he said sound like Shakespearean poetry or something. No Jim definitely wasn't thinking Romeo and Juliet, of course not.

"Oh," he knew he was blushing again, but made no attempt to divest the situation of some of its awkwardness.

For several thick moments the captain and his first office simply stood there, silhouetted against the vast backdrop of stars.

Clearing his throat, Jim decided it was time to move the conversation along. "Soooo… shall we head to my quarters?"

Spock nodded. "That would be acceptable."

The two made their way to the turbolift closest to the observation deck, quickly falling seamlessly into step with one another in the way that they had become accustomed to during months of working as a command team. Jim was aware that many crewmembers remarked about how he was seldom seen without his 'Vulcan shadow', and didn't exactly care what some chatty ensigns thought about it. Spock was a comforting figure at his side and he always felt secure—grounded whenever his first was nearby.

With a soft hiss, the turbolift door slid open and for a brief moment both captain and first officer stood back to let the other enter first. Letting out a low chuckle, Jim conceded and stepped into the round vessel. Spock, always the gentleman. As his companion slipped into place beside him, he keyed in the deck of hi quarters. Evidently it was also the floor of Spock's as they had in fact been given adjacent rooms. The quiet hum of the lift is the only noise for some time.

"Captain-"

"Jim."

"Jim. You appear distracted this evening. Am i incorrect in assuming such?" Spock's voice was nonchalant on the surface, but Jim could detect a note or two of concern. And was that-?

Turning his blue eyes to meet the half-vulcan's he contemplated his expression, or lack there-of. "Hmm? I guess. It's a big ship, there's a lot to be distracted by," he mused.

Dipping his head, Spock fell silent. Knowing him, he wasn't quite convinced with Jim's answer, but also knowing him, he respected the captain's privacy enough to keep his tongue. The turbolift ride concluded in amicable speechlessness. Stepping lightly onto the immaculate floor of the deck, Jim didn't need to glance back to be certain that Spock followed. A familiar presence always at his side.

Defly keying in the access code to his quarters, he ushered the half-vulcan in.

"Lights 70%," he called out, blinking slowly as the room lit. Jim strode past his shelf of antique books, grabbing the back of a chair and dragging it over to where the desk where the chess set was perpetually set up. Sliding into his own seat, he watch Spock sink into place across from him.

* * *

Approximately nine months ago, Jim had been attempting to connect more with his command crew. Figuring out their interests, finding mutual topics of significant knowledge, joking around-just trying to get closer to the people he now saw on a shiftly basis. This particular occasion saw him in the rec room with little Chekov conversing over a game of chess. The boy was a genius, if his current position considering his age wasn't enough to tell him that. He also seemed quite infatuated with the captain and eagerly discussed aberrant singularities with the vigor one could associate with a puppy.

"And ven ze photons enter the grawitational anomaly at zees speed-"

"Chekov, I'm going to have to stop you there, seeing as my first officer has just arrived, no doubt with something that requires my attention," The young navigator nodded, an action that caused his curls to bob.

Jim pivoted. "So, Mr. Spock, how can I help you?"

The lieutenant commander didn't answer immediately, which irritated Kirk. If he had no reason to interrupt why had been be standing behind him, scrutinizing his back? Chekov hastily mumbled an excuse and left the table. Jim wished he could call him back, since now he was left to the full attention of the half-vulcan's gaze.

"You play chess." It wasn't a question.

Moderately surprised, the captains blue eyes widened minutely. It was an effort to keep his voice in the command tone he operated with on the bridge. "Yes, I do. Fascinated that I actually contain the mental capacity to engage in such activities?" he droned, a little self-deprecatingly. It was near impossible to trust himself as captain of a Federation vessel when he could never be sure he had the approval of his second-in-command. Dammit, he'd been captain for nearly a month now, and they hadn't all blown up yet, had they?

One of those infernal eyebrow raised. "Quite the contrary, Captain, I simply wondered if perhaps you found the game somewhat mundane in regards to your fast-paced thought process."

Wait.

_Was that a compliment?_

Apparently he'd said that out loud, because Spock responded. "Negatory, I only wished to inquire."

Too late, a smirk had already found a home on the captain's lips and he practically beamed. "Thanks."

"I maintain that my earlier statement was not complimentary-"

"Well I'm going to take it that way," Jim interjected, practically relishing the minute signs of emotion on the XO's face.

"Deriving an unfounded meaning from another's words is illogical," Spock ground out. Kirk knew he really ought to be trying to solidify his relationship with the first and science officer, and that teasing was most definitely not the way to go about it. But damn, it was tempting.

"Yeah, illogical is my middle name." He shrugged.

Those high-swept brows furrowed slightly, "Your middle name given to you by your mother upon the occasion of the your birth is 'Tiberius'."

Jim couldn't keep the bellowing laugh from escaping his lungs. While he tipped his head back and guffawed, Spock stood there with the most amusingly befuddled expression on his usually stoic face.

"Captain-?"

Taking a deep breath to quench the euphoria, Jim explained. "It's an expression, Spock," his azure eyes shined with mirth and the laughing fit had left a pink tinge high on his cheeks.

A pause. "I see," Spock intoned. He probably didn't, but Vulcan pride was tough like that.

The two considered each other for a moment, then the blond sat up a bit straighter in his chair. Most of the other crew members in the rec room had either turned entirely to face them, or were sneaking not-so-covert glance their way. This served as a reminder that his behavior with his first officer would set a model for the rest of the crew. Gesturing an open palm to the abandoned 3D chess board, he asked, "Want to play?"

After a brief vacillation, the half-vulcan had responded with a quiet "affirmative".

Jim had very nearly won that first game. Apparently Spock wasn't used to an opponent who used, to quote the man himself: "such an illogical strategy and whimsical method." In the end, Spock had declared checkmate only three moves before Jim would have made the same claim. Eventually it became a weekly thing; they met in each other's quarters and played for a few hours, before heading off to Alpha shift or a night of rest (Jim always found it funny that Spock thought he actually took the time to sleep. So naive). Then it was every other evening. While playing they discussed mission results, potential approaches to various problems, and sometimes something of a more personal nature.

That was how the subject of Spock's mother was breached.

It was obvious that the XO had loved his mother. He spoke of her with such regard, and although his words held little feeling, his voice was washed with wistfulness whenever she was mentioned. Jim saw it fit to bring up the Narada crisis.

Moving his queen to capture Spock's intruding bishop, he avoided the other man's eyes. Clearing his throat nervously, he began. "Spock, erm, you know I-what I said on the bridge during the Nero incident. You know I didn't mean any of that, right? I know you loved your mother; I know it computes. I just, I needed you to give up command, and well… the only way I know how to deal with things is by attacking others. So I grabbed at erroneous concepts and just hurled them your way. I'm sorry. Truly."

Uncomfortable silence filled the atmosphere and Jim almost wanted to leap out of his chair and depart with a hasty 'Oh well look at the time I really have to go to the Med Bay and help Bones with this thing you know, important stuff,' but he kept himself firmly planted in place, refusing to lift his eyes.

"Capt-Jim. I understand that as a human you find comfort in expressing your remorse and guilt-as illogical and useless as those emotions may be-but thought I had conveyed over the past few months that indeed 'all is forgiven'." Finally looking up into Spock's coffee eyes, he discovered them to be full of sincerity. "I have long since come to terms with your actions and the logic behind them. Instead I believe I must apologize for my subsequent behavior."

'Subsequent behavior'?... Oh. The choking and beating him half-to-death.

"Spock," he sighed, "I totally deserved that. Especially after what I said. And anyway, I'd greatly prefer a good whammy to taking command over your dead body."

The dark eyes softened. "And I as well, Jim."

That was months ago. In session since, they'd discussed en brief Spock's childhood education on Vulcan, his refusal to enter the Vulcan Science Academy ("Dude, you're like a total rebel"), and Jim was shocked when the XO confided that he knew of the existence of his counterpart.

The captain himself was discussed, but not as frequently, seeing as Spock was less inclined to pry into his affairs. George Kirk was meticulously avoided, and the human was brief in any description of his early childhood. He was much looser-lipped when it came to his early twenties, as he found no difficulty recounting his more disastrous bar crawls and various fights picked over the years. Better Spock think he was just an upstart with a severe like of things that could get him killed or arrested. Jim was relieved that the scientist never inquired further.

* * *

"Checkmate."

The word pulled Jim out of his musings. A swift examination of the chessboard proved the declaration accurate. "Ah. So it would seem."

Spock looked like he was trying to solve Jim, as if he were a puzzle. "Once again, I must reinstate my belief that you are distracted."

Resting his cheek in his palm, the captain focused his attention on the old paperbacks of his collection. "Mmm. Well, lots of distractions."

"Perhaps you could name a few?" Jim hadn't expected Spock to ask deeper; he usually let things be, but that didn't appear to be the case tonight. His eyes were fixed to the blond's weary face, genuine concern and interest alight inside them. After a belated sigh, Jim lifted his chin from its resting place.

"Oh, I don't know. It's New Year's Eve on Earth right now. Traditionally it is a time of reflection," when Spock deigned not to reply, he added "I don't do reflection."

"You need not concern yourself with the practices of a Terran holiday when you are so far away on the Enterprise."

"Like I don't know that," Jim grumpled, crossing his legs. "It's just… weird. So much happened in the past year… hell, last New Year's I was drunk in my Academy dorm, studying my ass off. Two years before that I was bloody on the floor of a bar in Iowa, toasting my wasted youth," Snorting, he lifted his hand as if to raise an invisible wine class. "Clink! Fun times."

Spock contributed to the discussion with a good dose of silence.

Kirk deflated somewhat. "Look at me. Lightyears away from that and I'm still wallowing and being a nuisance. Sorry to subject you to my dismal company, Spock."

"Captain, I have to disagree," the half-vulcan's tone was stern.

"Captain?" Jim lifted an eyebrow in a meager impersonation of the man across from him.

"Jim," Spock corrected. "I have spent a total of 10.83 months under your command, and over that time I have seen you grow as both a captain and a man. I suggest you cease this line of thinking as it is built off a false concept and holds no true weight.

"It has oftentimes come to my attention that you hold yourself in surprisingly low regard, for one so obviously skilled and intelligent. Do not mistake the fleet's decision to promote you to captain as made in light of the significant loss of officers. That is not true. If anything you have more than proved yourself capable in situations of combat as well as ethics, decision making, technical ability, and compassion. There is only one err I can accuse you of, and that would be giving the admirality the chance to take away what makes you James Kirk. Although perhaps I have to add a complete inability to perceive your own worth," Spock finished, tersely. Somehow his words continued to bombard Jim's heart even after the half-vulcan closed his lips. Dammit, he could feel the corners of his eyes prickling and quickly ducked his head.

"Spock…" He couldn't find the words to continue, and the name floated solitary in the space between them. The gap in conversation was suffocating.

Spock stood up.

Jim's head snapped up at the motion, and part of him crumbled as at the thought of his friend leaving now. Another part was transfixed with the sight of those long, lithe limbs unfolding fluidly. He swallowed hard, prepared for the inevitable 'goodnight'.

But instead of making for the door, his first officer startled him by striding over to the bookshelf. Two dextrous-oh no that was not a good word-fingers pried a leather volume from between its twins. Spock turned the book in to the cover, hands lightly skimming the emboldened title-fingertips delicately tracing the letters. Jim recognized it immediately;he'd read it cover to cover numerous times.

A Collection of Sonnets by William Shakespeare.

"Spock, what are you-"

The half-vulcan shot him a look that plainly said: 'it is in your best interests to be quiet.' Jim clamped his mouth shut into a frown, but remained silent.

Spock carefully flipped open the volume and damn, it wasn't fair: the way he treated the pages. He was practically caressing the aged paper, turning the sheets with a tenderness that rivaled Sulu's caretaking of his delicate plants. The pages hardly crinkled at all, even in their centuries-old age, as Spock found the poem he wanted.

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?"

Oh Christ.

"Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer's lease hath all too short a date. "

If Jim had ever imagined this, (which of course he hadn't: he wasn't a schoolboy) Spock reading poetry was even more transfixing. The soft flow of his voice over and around the syllables like the lull of ocean waves. The captain soon found himself sinking, sliding, slipping into the cadence, and desperately scrambled to pull himself out before…

"Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimmed;

And every fair from fair sometimes declines,

By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed;"

Despite his efforts, the young captain felt himself drawn entirely into the soliloquy-the shapes formed by Spock's lips, his long eyelashes and the shadows they cast on his cheeks. The way the light made his sharp features look distinctly alien-as if he ever forgot. All it took was the combined forces of Spock and Shakespeare to render all of his control over the past month or so inert.

"But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,

Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,

When in eternal lines to Time thou grow'st."

When did he stand up? Suddenly he was on his feet, drifting irrevocably towards his friend by the bookshelf. This had to stop, or else he wouldn't be able to hold back. His hand reached for the tomme, with all intentions to snatch the book away before Spock could finish.

"So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."

Time and space seemed to slow down with those last lines. Spock turned to face Jim, and in doing so, brought his hand into contact with the other's fingers. A spark traveled up the captain's arm, carrying with it an odd sensation.

"Spock…" he gasped.

"You appear to be fairly monosyllabic today, Jim," the half-vulcan replied, a teasing gleam in his eyes. Kirk inhaled sharply as he felt his hand encompassed in the warmth of Spock's. Fuck fuck fuck what was happening?

"Spock…"

"Really, Ji-"

The blond captain cut him off the way he'd always wanted to.

Tender at first, the kiss was tentative, but at the same time filled with the knowledge that there wasn't any going back. He felt his heart unclench in relief when Spock began to respond in kind, lips soft and intoxicating. The half-vulcan moved his hands to Jim's waist, rubbing rhythmically and imparting even more heat. With a moan, Jim deepened the kiss, and flung his arms around Spock's neck, winding his fingers into that gorgeous raven hair. He took a fierce satisfaction in the small whimper this elicited from him.

What the kiss lacked in finesse, it made up for in the fact that it was _finally happening_.

When the ravishing kisses had slowed to sweet nips and pecks, Jim sighed happily and melted against Spock's hard body. There was something immensely comforting in being encompassed in his first's arms. A gentle hand moved up and down his back in a tender gesture as he lay his head on his shoulder.

"Jim…"

The blond raised his gaze to meet Spock's eyes. They were practically glowing. "What?"

"Nothing, I simply wished to say it."

With a whimper, Jim buried his face in the soft blue fabric of Spock's uniform. "God, I love you," He waited for the body supporting him to stiffen, to draw away, but instead this only seemed to relax the vulcan further. A low contented rumble uncurled in Spock's chest-almost like a purr.

"And I you, Jim."

"Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year."

They greeted the dawning of the year asleep, wrapped in an embrace like they'd never slept any other way.

_**A/N: Whoot. Just a quick one-shot seeing as New Year's is approaching at Warp 4! I promise I'm still working on Distance, I just had to utilize my leftover holiday spirit.**_

_**Review please? And happy holidays, whatever you celebrate :) **_


End file.
